Legacy of Somalia
by Catmint
Summary: And he comprehends, knows without having to ask, that this is the legacy of Somalia, the legacy of Saleem Ulman. That Ziva's torture and torment did not end when Gibbs' bullet whipped through the terrorist's skull, but that it would perpetuate forever, that his actions could never leave her. Set mid-season 10.
1. Chapter 1

**Legacy of Somalia: part 1**

**Disclaimer: N**ot mine, all belong to Donald P Bellisario.

**Warning: **Some self-harm so potential for triggers.

Not explicitly Tiva (though I am a fervent Tiva shipper) but I'd say implied, though it can just be read as Tiva friendship if you so wish; I'm not actually sure myself!

Before anyone complains that Ziva's OOC in this, that she's not one to cry a lot, there's a lot of undealt-with stuff going on in her head and I suspect that given the right trigger, it will all come crashing down and tumbling out. _Shabbat Shalom _put in some less-than-subtle hints about the legacy of Somalia and having only just seen it (we're a bit behind in the UK compared to the US) this came thundering into my head.

Set a few weeks after _Shabbat Shalom/Shiva._

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When Laura from Accounting announces that she is pregnant, she shrugs it off, can't really care less, can barely match the face and name. They've only exchanged a few words in the entire four years Laura has worked at NCIS. Abby, naturally, bounces excitedly about it all.

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Two weeks later, word goes around that Agent Josie Walker has got herself knocked up. Tony makes a scathing comment in the elevator with the team about being surprised how long it took for this to happen to the agency slut; McGee makes a slightly awkward, "Hmmm" noise and there is a smack as Gibbs' hand makes contact with the back of Tony's head. She snickers and exchanges meaningful looks with Tony, who briefly gives her hand a comforting squeeze.

That evening, a difficult and exhausting case is successfully concluded; it leads her, Tony, Abby and McGee to celebrate this at Tony's favourite bar. They all get decidedly drunk; around eleven-thirty, McGee bundles Abby into a taxi and goes with her to look after her, knowing that although he's definitely not sober, he is much less drunk than any of the other three, particularly Abby. The other two wave them off.

Tony goes with her to her apartment: she can barely stand, much less walk straight, and he wants to keep an eye on her. He does not say so in as many words, but she knows that he is worried about her. They put on a movie and she leans into him, closing her eyes when the room begins to slowly spin, enjoying the feel of his arms around her and the way he strokes her hair.

And then she is racing, stumbling, to her bathroom, regretting drinking as much as she did. As she empties the contents of her stomach into the toilet, he holds her hair back from her face with one hand and gently rubs her back with the other, murmuring soothing words that she can't make out because she can't concentrate on them and anyway her brain is unable to process anything other than Hebrew right now.

Her body settles down and Tony takes the opportunity to plait her hair, securing it with a scrunchie to keep it out of her face, before fetching a glass and plying her with water. When he returns from getting the glass, she is leaning against the wonderfully cool tiles, exhausted. She murmurs, "Toda" to him.

He replies with, "You're welcome" – in Hebrew. She finds this overwhelmingly touching and she cannot keep back the silent tears that spill down her face. She does not need to say anything; he understands and pulls her into his chest and rocks her comfortingly until the movement unsettles her body so that she has to pull away and throw up again.

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It is around midday the next day when she wakes, head pounding, and chest and stomach muscles sore from the previous night. She is in her bed, cannot remember how she got there, nor where the glass of water on her bedside table or washing-up bowl on the floor came to be in their current positions.

In the dim light, her eyes fall on Tony, sitting on one of her kitchen chairs nearby, watching her, and her confusion dissipates. He smiles kindly upon seeing that she is awake, helps her sit up to drink some water and take some paracetamol that she had not previously noticed was there. The room spins and she lets out a faint moan so he lies her down again, pulling the covers back over her, and sits beside her on the bed, her hand in his. She closes her eyes and welcomes the reassuring sensation of having him here.

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Less than a week later, a row breaks out in the middle of the squadroom between Josie Walker and Agent Mauricio: Walker has terminated her pregnancy, he was the father, why did she not tell him until after the abortion, she's a selfish, hedonistic bitch.

Tony and McGee exchange looks, then McGee shakes his head in disapproval and returns to his work. A movement out of the corner of his eye draws Tony's attention to his partner, who has got to her feet and is swiftly and discreetly striding out of the squadroom, face unreadable. He gets up, follows her to the ladies' toilets, finds her huddled in a corner, knees drawn up close to her chest and arms wrapped tightly around her torso. Her gaze is blank, unfocused; she does not register his arrival.

He crouches down beside her; when he puts a hand on her shoulder she flinches away. He does not attempt the gesture again and instead simply sits down next to her in silence. After a few minutes her head comes to rest on his shoulder; he knows better than to comment on the gradually-developing wet patch on his shirt that is absorbing her silent tears or the tremors he can feel from her body.

Eventually the shaking stops, but she does not pull away. The door opens and a young probie – Amy? Alice? Tony can't remember – peers in, then hastily scuttles out after he glares at her.

Gibbs finds them there and quietly tells them that they have a case, a dead petty officer in a ditch; Tony helps her to her feet and her hand lingers in his, squeezing it gently to say thank-you.

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Two weeks later Abby and Laura come giggling into the squadroom, the faintest hint of a baby bump visible, attention drawn to it by Laura's hand on it. Tony glances across the aisle in time to see his partner stiffen and stare fixedly at her computer screen, fingers tapping haphazardly and randomly on the keyboard; he wants to go over to her but knows that would draw attention when she least wants it.

When Abby excitedly waves the ultrasound pictures around, Tony feigns a phone call and informs his partner that they are wanted in Autopsy; she seems grateful for the diversion and once in the elevator, the emergency switch flipped, he gathers her in his arms as she hides herself from the world. He does not ask, but his suspicions are growing stronger. He tells her that he will always be here for her, that he has her back; reminds her that his door is always open to her. She halfheartedly jokes that it is always open to her because the lock is far too easy to pick. And anyway, she has a key.

It makes him smile, causing her to smile tentatively as well, and then he flips the switch and they are heading down to Autopsy for tea with Ducky (her) and winding up Palmer (him – he has a genius idea for a prank).

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Despite the lack of hot cases, a month later the entire team is unexpectedly summoned to Abby's lab. McGee is already there, lurking, and Tony calls him "McShifty". Ducky looks mildly intrigued, standing there with a mug of tea in his hands. The usual stack of huge red Caf-Pows has disappeared, replaced with blue No-Caf-Pows.

In a flurry of words, with McGee growing increasingly uncomfortable under Gibbs' hard, penetrating stare, Abby babbles that "stuff" happened a few weeks ago, after _that _case, and suddenly Tony realises where this is going. When Abby finally, after a great long spiel, utters the words he had been anticipating and dreading in equal measures, he hastily congratulates the parents-to-be and hurries after his partner, who has not been able to utter a single word, and he slips into the lift just as the doors are closing.

She is rigid, eyes unfocused and empty, face blank, arms tightly crossed over her chest and hands clenched into knuckle-whitening fists. Much as he wants to, he knows that touching her now, in this state, would result in him losing many of his appendages.

When the doors open, he steps towards her, but she shakes her head and speedily puts distance between them before grabbing her bag for the coffee run. He does not follow, but his heart breaks a little more for her.

Later that day, Abby calls him down to her lab and demands to know what the hell is going on with Ziva; he hedges, saying he doesn't know, maybe she's still trying to deal with her father's assassination. He doesn't care whether or not Abby believes him, and leaves before she has a chance to interrogate him.

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That evening she doesn't answer his calls so he goes over to her apartment. The light is on and thus he knocks; after several attempts he gets out his key and opens her door, calling her name.

A muffled, stifled sob catches his attention and he swiftly traces it to the bathroom, where the door is ajar. He doesn't want to barge into such a personal space – she is, after all, a very private person – so he asks if he can come in.

She chokes out permission; he eases the door open – and freezes at the sight in front of him. This is not the Ziva David he is familiar with.

Her clothes are on the floor with a damp towel – a cursory glance around suggests a recent shower – and she is clad only in knickers and a bra. Ordinarily that would distract him, but not this time.

This time, his eyes are drawn to the thin, neat, fresh, oozing, angry red lines carefully marked horizontally over her abdomen. Over the area that on Laura is noticeably swollen and that on Abby soon will be. The thin trickles have already begun to stain her blue knickers.

One of her knives is in her hand, blood on the blade; he takes in the pink smears on her face, blood mixed with tears, and the dead look in her eyes that he has not seen since Somalia.

And he comprehends, knows without having to ask, that _this _is the legacy of Somalia, the legacy of Saleem Ulman. That Ziva's torture and torment did not end when Gibbs' bullet whipped through the terrorist's skull, but that it would perpetuate forever, that his actions could never leave her.

He crouches down in front of her and she draws back, leaving him wondering where precisely her head is at the moment; he is frozen to the spot, brain not quite able to process what he is watching, as she lifts the blade to her flat abdomen and adds another seeping red line, silent tears falling onto the wounds. And his heart shatters completely as he takes in the full meaning of what is going on before him.

When she raises the knife to cut again, he moves, so fast that he doesn't even have time to register what he has done, one hand around her wrist, fingers from the other prising away the knife. She does not resist, as though she _wants _him to do this – if she really didn't want him to, he'd be face-down on the floor by now, arms twisted painfully behind his back.

Pushing the knife away from her, he eases her shivering – maybe shaking, he can't tell which – body into his hold and she immediately buries her face into his shoulder. Now is not the time to joke about bloodstains on his expensive white Italian shirt, but he realises that he couldn't care less – all he cares about is the woman falling apart in his arms, her pain too much for her to cope with.

He moves one of his hands over her marred abdomen, intentionally pressing it to the wounds. They aren't deep, they'll soon stop bleeding (they have already begun to do so), but that is not why he has made the gesture.

And she understands why he has done this and it makes her cry harder into him, clinging to him as if he is her only lifeline. And maybe he is, maybe he is the only thing keeping her going. And he holds her and soothes her and she just feels so _safe _here, in his embrace, does not want to leave, ever.

Neither has any idea how long they sit like this, but eventually her teeth start chattering and he carries her into her bedroom, helping her into some pyjamas and wrapping a blanket around her because she is still so cold.

He briefly disappears before returning with a cloth, bowl of warm water and some dressings that she keeps around; she obeys without fuss when he requests that she lie on her back while he cleans the dried blood away and applies the dressings. His touch is tender, caring, loving, and she finds herself relaxing despite the sting of her wounds.

When he has finished, she covers her abdomen – so achingly, painfully, heartbreakingly flat – with her pyjamas and lays her head on his lap as she curls up. With one hand over her hand, which she has placed over her injuries, he uses the other to stroke her hair until she falls asleep.

That night he stays, shedding his shoes and tie and climbing into the bed with her. He holds her close and their hands remain intertwined.

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~TBC~


	2. Chapter 2

**Legacy of Somalia: part 2**

**Disclaimer: N**ot mine, all belong to Donald P Bellisario.

**Warning: **Some self-harm so potential for triggers.

Many thanks for the 2 kind reviews! This is the end – it's a 2-shot. Reviews are loved and welcomed (hint hint…) and will be used to further the sequel to my post-season-9-finale fic, _Aftermath: Irrevocable Changes._

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At work the next day, they stay close, barely leaving more than a couple of metres between them. McGee, caught between dealing with a crazier-than-usual Abby and helping another team with something technical, notices nothing. Gibbs, being Gibbs, picks up on the change within seconds. When Ziva leaves their area to interpret for another team's case (she is the only available Turkish speaker), Gibbs approaches Tony's desk and quietly asks if he knows why Ziva seems to have some sort of stomach or abdominal injury.

Lying to Gibbs is pointless; Tony simply says, "Elevator", and Gibbs follows him to their unofficial conference room. Tony explains, describes what he walked in on the previous night, tells Gibbs that it is Abby's pregnancy that has sent Ziva tumbling over the edge, he's never seen her like this before, puts his Somalia theory to his boss.

Throughout, Gibbs is silent. When Tony airs his suspicions, Gibbs merely nods and confirms them, that being repeatedly raped in Somalia has left Ziva physically damaged (imagining the sheer brutality that must have caused that makes Tony sick and want to resurrect Saleem so that he can slowly torture him and then kill the man himself – he didn't have that satisfaction three and a half years ago) and with a number of diseases that, although treated upon her return, had advanced far enough to completely destroy her fertility.

Also, adds Gibbs, when they rescued her she was pregnant, but miscarried the night they brought her home, the malnutrition and trauma she had endured too much for her body to handle.

Tony breaks down, hurting so, _so_ badly for her and furious with the people who have caused this. She doesn't deserve this, how does she get through each day with all this to carry, he should have realised. He can't even jump on a plane to Israel and give her father, the man who sent her to Somalia, a piece of his mind because the bastard went and got himself assassinated just a few weeks ago.

Gibbs lets him cry, scream, punch and kick the metal box they are in (he'll deal with Vance, he assures his senior field agent). She needs you, Gibbs reminds him, we all need each other. The basement is always open.

That night Tony drives her home after stopping off at his place for a few things, and once inside her apartment, tells her that he knows.

Silence crashes down; all the colour drains from her face and she stiffens. When he puts a hand on her arm, she jerks violently away and before he realises what is going on, she has jumped to her feet and is frantically tugging at the dressing, eyes wild and panicked. Tony attempts to stop her but in her frightened state she is not all there in her mind and he is pushed to the floor – thankfully it is carpeted and he misses the coffee table.

But her hands are shaking too violently and she is unable to remove the dressings; the panic fades and now she stands there, emitting choking sobs as she sinks to the floor. Tony is quick to recover and pulls her to him as she loses the last shreds of control.

That night they stay up till four am, Ziva finally revealing to Tony what she endured, tells him that he is the only person to know all this, not even Gibbs knows the details, that she hoped that by suppressing it, she could move on and push past it. But recent events have brought that wall crashing down and she can't stop it tumbling and she doesn't know how to make it stop or how to repair it.

Both are left completely exhausted by the end of it; throughout it all he holds her close when she allows him (there are parts where she cannot bear his touch), gripping her hands tightly when she confesses that she desperately wants to cut herself again and quieting her when she near-screams at him when he refuses to let her.

In the morning he calls Gibbs while Ziva sleeps (or is perhaps passed out) and Gibbs tells him not to come in, to look after Ziva and keep her safe. Additionally, he will contact Dr. Cranston.

Tony places the phone beside the bed and watches his partner sleep until he drifts off himself, holding her close; she seems to relax with his protective arms around her.

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They spend the weekend together. Tony fields Abby's repeated calls, eventually snapping at her that Ziva is ill so could she _please _stop calling; Gibbs turns up on Saturday evening and takes charge, looking after both of them and giving Tony a break. Tony dreads Monday morning.

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Abby is curt with both of them on Monday; Ziva takes care to avoid her for most of the day and puts on a front that convinces everyone except Tony and Gibbs.

When Laura parades through the squadroom in search of someone (for once it is not Tony's expenses claim that is being questioned) Tony watches his partner closely and anxiously; he sees the dead look return to her eyes, her hand press against the cuts that only he and Gibbs know are there, and he wants to yell at Laura for flaunting her body so blatantly. Ziva makes an excuse and leaves, heading for the women's toilets where she can lock the door and break down without having an audience.

When she emerges, Laura has gone and Tony is relieved. Ziva looks drained, sends him an IM to say that no, she hasn't cut again, almost overwhelming though the urge was and still is; somehow manages to make it through the rest of the day. At the end of the day she cannot leave the building fast enough and Tony goes after her. They sit in silence by the river until he offers to take her home; she nods her acquiescence, not quite able to speak, and allows him to lead her.

Tony cooks, a secret family recipe, he tells her (though actually he found it on Google; she doesn't need to know that but she'll probably realise but go along with it to humour him) as he chatters away from the kitchen. She is curled up on the sofa, the dull ache of yearning, loss and sorrow all that she is able to feel, so overpowering that she is paralysed by them; she closes her eyes and wishes she could shut her ears, the world too much for her to tolerate, too overwhelming.

When dinner is ready, Tony calls her in, worries at the lack of response, goes to check on her. At first he thinks she has fallen asleep but her eyes open when he kneels down beside her. She tells him in a whisper, unable to raise her voice any louder, that she is not hungry – hardly a lie – so he brings their plates through and sits down next to her. Much as he wants to, he knows he cannot force her to eat; he does not know what, if anything, he can do to help. He finishes eating, notices that hers remains untouched because she has yet to move, lost in a catatonic state.

Maybe he should call Ducky – he will know what to do, far more than Tony does. Yet something holds him back; besides, he knows that Gibbs has called Kate's sister and that Ziva will be seeing her the following week (albeit reluctantly, the threat of desk duty forcing her hand, and whether or not she will actually talk is highly debatable).

Deciding that a distraction is needed, Tony turns on the TV, just in time for adverts. The very first one is for a newly-opened mother-and-baby shop and he immediately regrets his choice of action. Before he can grab the remote (he has no idea where she's tidied it away to) and change channel, Ziva has fled the room, so he turns off the TV and hunts her down.

She is not hard to find: the bathroom, sitting on the edge of her bath. Tony's heart plummets when he realises that she is holding a bloodied knife in her hands, her trousers unbuttoned and open at the top – she has added two more angry red lines that scream of torment to the ones already present.

Her eyes meet his, and the pain and anguish he sees in them are almost too much to bear. Her pain becomes his and he finds himself hurting for her. When she tells him that she cannot take this much longer, he is unable to hold back his own tears as he sits down beside her, extracts the knife from her hand and wraps his arms around her trembling form.

The dam breaks and a choked sob forces its way out – then another, and before he has a chance to put the knife down, out of her reach, she is clinging desperately to him, crying as though she will never be able to stop. All he can do is hold her, hiding his own tears by burying his face in her hair: it will not help her to see him like this, so he forces himself to be strong, gently rubbing her back and rocking her until the howls become subdued hiccups. They are both exhausted, physically and mentally; that night in her bed she falls asleep in his arms and he is unable to think of anywhere he would rather be.

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For the rest of the week he protects her from Abby's wild mood swings, a combination of early-pregnancy hormones and caffeine withdrawal (he find himself almost feeling sorry for poor McGee). But on Friday it all comes to a head when Abby storms into the squadroom while Tony and Gibbs are still getting back from talking to a potential witness.

The forensic scientist shrieks that Ziva won't come down to the lab, for no apparent reason, that a best friend is supposed to be there for you, be supportive, get excited with you about babies and things, go shopping, design and paint the nursery, squeal at the adorableness of all the small clothes and shoes, that sort of thing. _Not _ignore calls and texts and emails and invitations and getting their work partner to pretend they're sick. Throughout the tirade, the squadroom is silent, all eyes on the wound-up Goth and the statuesque Israeli. McGee is frozen in place between them, not knowing what to do or say, or whether or not he should intervene, a panicked, deer-in-headlights expression on his face.

And then Tony and Gibbs walk in, and the tension is so thick that not even Ziva's knives could cut through it. They have caught the tail end of the rant and Tony cannot even begin to imagine how deeply Ziva must be hurting right now. All he can do is watch as Ziva's cold, emotionless mask slides into place as she turns and walks away, leaving Abby standing there, confused and hurt.

A moment later a howl bursts from Abby; McGee is quick to unfreeze and attempt to comfort her and the others return, somewhat uncomfortably, to their work. Gibbs nods at Tony and Tony understands his meaning: take care of Ziva.

He does not have to think much; brushing off Abby and McGee, ignoring the looks from his colleagues, he hurries off to the women's toilets. Dread fills him, fear of what he might find, knowing all too tangibly how much his partner is hurting right now.

His gut is correct: in the far corner, a dark-haired figure is pressed in on herself, rigid, head buried in her arms. He approaches cautiously, ensuring his footsteps are loud, so as not to startle her. He relaxes a little when he notices the absence of any knives or blood, but quickly realises that she is shaking, the effort of holding it together bordering on too much to cope with.

She doesn't have the words, but she needs him and he knows this and suddenly she is breaking down in his arms. There is no language, spoken or signed, that can fully communicate the extent of her anguish and pain and grief, yet somehow Tony still understands and keeps the worst of her demons at bay. They say everything and nothing.

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She has no idea how much time has passed when they finally leave the toilets; she has cried until there are no more tears and all that remains is the dull ache of hollowness and emptiness that refuses to be shaken off, the ghosts of Somalia eating away at her.

Abby is no longer in the squadroom when they emerge, for which they are grateful. Gibbs gently, in his role as both boss and substitute father, tells them to go home and Ziva passively allows Tony to take her. She eats little, her appetite absent, but she must pacify Tony's anxieties and so she is a good girl. That night she falls asleep with her head on his chest and his arms holding her closely, safely, to him; when the torment-filled dreams come and she wakes wanting to take her knife to her own body again, he holds her even tighter, never letting go.

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Explaining to Abby, she says, is not an option. Gibbs has had a few words with the forensic scientist, asking her to be discreet and considerate, and she spends a lot of her time exclusively with McGee, giving Tony and Ziva the cold shoulder ("Not the 'gold' or 'old' shoulder," Tony informs her in an effort to make her smile; she does, a little).

And every day, the gutwrenching yearning tightens its hold on Ziva, who can do nothing about it and who hides her pain from all but Gibbs and Tony (she is certain that Ducky suspects, but he is giving her space and has issued an open invitation for tea that she may take up at some unspecified time in the future).

The day Abby starts wearing maternity clothes designed to draw attention to her body, Tony finds Ziva half-sitting, half-lying, on her bathroom floor, methodically drawing lines across her abdomen with a knife. This time the cuts are deeper, not enough to demand urgent medical attention but enough to ensure permanent scarring; he cleans and dresses the wounds before taking her in his arms to her bed. There will be no happy ending for her, just the ache of loss and unrequitable desires and the knowledge of what could have been.

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~end~


End file.
